18

On Tuesday night Nikki Moreno hosted her first Oliver Finney Victory Party. Well, she didn’t exactly host it herself. But she was the one who did the heavy lifting—passing out invitations, calling a local television station and the newspaper, and dropping major hints to lawyers thinking about not coming that the judge had a long memory when it came to these sorts of things.

She rented out Norfolk’s Finest Sports Bar at the Waterside complex and gave the owner strict instructions to have every television tuned to Faith on Trial at exactly 9:00 p.m. She placed several donation containers at the front door (this was, after all, a religious ceremony of sorts) to offset the expenses. She made herself conspicuous next to the containers in the hour before the show started, just as the main crowd rolled in, pretending to take casual note of how much the patrons contributed to the worthy cause. It was amazing how many attorneys reached into their pockets and plunked in a twenty. The judges, of course, didn’t put in a dime.

The crowd was loose by the time the show started, and they hollered like crazy when Finney’s face graced the screen during the show’s opening. After a commercial break, however, things became much more subdued as the Jewish advocate who had resigned in protest, a young rabbi named Samuel Demsky, recounted all the reasons the show was a bad idea.

Faith is a private and serious matter, he argued, not something to be exploited for reality TV. When he first signed up, he explained, he thought the show was going to be much more respectful and deferential toward these sensitive religious matters. Now, he feared, the show would inflame religious passions and exploit the worst in human nature by pitting one faith against another. His people had suffered too much as a result of such passions for him to be a part of this production.

He concluded by noting that many other religious leaders agreed with him. He mentioned a few leaders of the religious Right whose names Nikki had heard a time or two before, though she happened to know that other conservative Christian leaders thought the show was a wonderful idea and were already drumming up support for Finney. Rabbi Demsky concluded by noting that even the father of the executive producer of the show, Pastor Ronald Martin, had sent a letter of protest to the network.

What a strange way to start a reality show, Nikki thought.

The producer himself came on the screen next and said he regretted that Rabbi Demsky had withdrawn but that the show would go forward.

“Enough already!” somebody yelled.

“Bring back the judge!” somebody else shouted. And soon the entire place was again buzzing with anticipation.

Things picked up as the show featured short highlight pieces on each of the contestants. Though nobody was quite sure what the etiquette was for an event like this, a show involving serious matters of faith, they started booing the other contestants anyway, as if it were a college football game.

By the time the network cut to a commercial, right after the first few lines of Finney’s powerful opening statement, the crowd was totally into the show, chanting, “Fin-ney! Fin-ney!” It made Nikki proud to be an American.

The same crowd started jeering and hissing a few moments later, not at Finney, but at the juror in the back row whom the camera caught dozing. “Throw her in jail, Judge!” somebody yelled. The camera zoomed back out, and Finney concluded his opening to thunderous barroom applause.

The wisecrackers got going in earnest during the highlights from the Swami’s opening, though Nikki thought he was fairly compelling. Nobody that hot should also be that smart. You could barely hear the television as the audience heaped derision on both Kareem Hasaan and Dr. Victoria Kline, the women being especially critical of the atheistic scientist. This sports bar wasn’t usually quite so sanctimonious, but Finney was a hometown boy and that ought to count for something.

But the crowd grew unusually quiet, Nikki noticed, during the opening statement by the Buddhist representative, whatever that guy’s name was. Even Finney seemed to be moved by it, according to the results of the lie detector test. The lie detector guru made a big deal about the fact that Finney’s heart rate and breathing increased when he was asked about Ando and Hadji.

Nikki wasn’t completely shocked when the judge announced his verdict in favor of Ando, though she thought a small riot might break out at the sports pub. The plaintiffs’ lawyers in the crowd—the ones who made their livings accusing big corporations of fraud and negligence and conspiracies—were the first to suggest that the judging on the show might be rigged.

The show ended with dialing instructions and some titillating peeks at what lay ahead. In the next few episodes, temptation and trauma would be coming to Paradise Island, and everyone would see whose faith could hold up to that. Thursday they would reveal the results from the viewers’ verdict for round one and another charity would be fifty thousand dollars richer. As soon as the credits rolled, cell phones popped up everywhere, the lawyers drinking with one hand and dialing with the other.

Despite the judge’s verdict for Ando, Nikki thought the home team was off to a decent start. But it did worry her when it was easier to get through voting for the judge than it was when she voted for the Swami.

The Patient turned off his television with mixed emotions. There were, on the one hand, a lot of things to like. He was more than pleased with the publicity the show had generated. The opening segment worked brilliantly, and he was sure that millions of people had tuned in just to see what all the fuss was about. The unanswered question, of course, was how many people had changed the channel after Rabbi Demsky’s remarks. He doubted that number was high.

The production quality of the show had been superb. This was tricky business—a reality show involving the most volatile and sensitive issue known to the human race. It had to be entertaining (after all, this was television), but it also had to be handled with great respect. The show needed to gain credibility week after week, increasing its ratings, garnering positive reviews—basically, doing whatever it took to gain worldwide attention. They were a long way from where they needed to be, he thought, but they were off to a good start.

His mind turned to the final episode; he considered all they would be putting on the line in that one short hour. He wanted to build to a huge audience—not easy to do in the middle of the summer. But still, that final episode deserved nothing less. Truth be known, he wanted it to be the most watched hour in the history of television. He was already sure it would be the most talked about.

So, on the one hand, he was pleased with their progress. But on the other hand, that first show hadn’t helped him at all in his own dilemma. The doctors were still all gloom and doom, and they seemed to shorten his already-truncated life expectancy every time he saw them. Brain cancer. A cruel twist of fate for a man widely envied for his gray matter.

The opening statements had been sincere and passionate but confusing. Ando had shown nobility in the face of suffering and deserved to win the first round. But being the best advocate and serving the true God were two different things. Finney’s profile of Jesus seemed compelling, and the Patient liked Kareem’s passion as well as Hadji’s acceptance of everything life threw at him. He had listened to every word the advocates had said, but he had no idea who was right.

He knew the answer wouldn’t come from analyzing opening statements. Faith was about so much more than that.